


The Lessons We Learn

by scarecrowstories



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Canon Trans Character, Childhood Memories, Gen, Minor Character Death, Sibling Love, Snapshots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-17
Updated: 2019-06-17
Packaged: 2020-05-13 08:40:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19247680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scarecrowstories/pseuds/scarecrowstories
Summary: Snapshots from the youth of Taako and Lup, being passed around from relative to relative. Each place they called home taught them different lessons, shaped them. But no lesson was greater than the one they'd always known: they needed only each other.





	The Lessons We Learn

**Author's Note:**

> Howdy friends, not only am I back from my little not-really-but-kind-of vacation, but I'm also employed again! Fic production will likely slow down once I start that but, like, this is free content so I doubt folks care. Anyway here, have Whatever This Is. I have a lot of emotions and when canon doesn't deliver it's My City Now.
> 
> Oh also because Griffin mentioned their grandpa Tostada let me fucking live, I named their cousin Burrito and was gonna give the other relatives similar names but I mercifully decided not to.

The twins remembered their parents' faces, but nothing more. They remembered going to their funeral and not understanding what was happening, surrounded by relatives making promises of shelter that they wouldn't keep. First it was to an uncle's home for a few years before he was sick of them, then their grandfather's until his death, before finally living with their favorite family member: their auntie. There were others after her, but none as kind and loving.

The uncle they'd lived with hadn't been particularly nice. He would tease the twins for sharing a bed, saying they needed to be more independent. When asked about their father, he'd dismiss their questions by saying he'd tell them when they were older. He got drunk most nights after working all day and didn't pay them any mind, and was generally very irritable, wanting to be left alone. Later they figured it was because he was grieving the tragic death of his little brother, but as children all they knew was that he wasn't a kind man.

If the twins learned anything from him, it was how much they needed one another. They learned how to rely on each other for comfort, for safety, for love. And when they started learning how to read and write, they relied on one another to help study. It amazed their family how quickly they picked things up; they were brilliant beyond their years from the moment they picked up a book.

One day their uncle walked in on them in his study hunched over an old spellbook, mouths sounding out the words of power with unpracticed lips, giggling. He watched from the doorway, curious as to what they were doing. 

"No dummy, you gotta do this!" said Taako, taking Lup's hand and guiding her through the motion. As soon as he completed the somatic component for the spell, a puff of air burst from her hand, making them both jump back a little before laughing in delight.

"Careful, boys, you're too young for that kind of magic," their uncle said. "You could get hurt. Why can't you read a book for elves your age instead of that garbage?"

At that, Lup tilted her head. "Why do you have it if it's garbage?"

He sighed, striding into the room and taking the book from them. "Look, just stay out of my books. You can read them when you're older. Now scram!"

This only made the twins want to read their uncle's spellbooks even more. It was one thing to read those books for fun, but another thing entirely when it was forbidden to them. They took turns sneaking spellbooks out of their uncle's study, practicing their letters by copying down scraps of spells to try out in the woods behind their house.

One day in the woods they were practicing conjuring small flames in their hands when Lup, out of nowhere, blurted out, "Koko, I'm a girl, okay?"

The flame in Taako's hand only flickered for a moment before he shrugged. "Okay, cool. You're still Lulu."

"I don't want uncle to call me Chalupa anymore though," she said sadly, stuffing the spell scraps into her pocket. 

Taako dismissed the flame in his hand and poked Lup on the cheek. "Well duh, you've never wanted anyone to call you that, silly."

"No, but like, really," she repeated, looking a little distressed. "I like when you call me Lup. I like Lup." She grabbed his hands, eyes tearful. "You can still call me Lulu though, okay? That's okay."

"Yeah, of course." Taako smiled, pulling her in for a hug. "I'll yell at him next time he says the wrong name."

While it turned out that their uncle didn't care much about Lup changing her name and pronouns, he did care about the larger and more dangerous spells the children were attempting until one day when they nearly burned down the woods by accident, unable to control the fireball they'd conjured. Thankfully he'd been home and saw the smoke, rushing to their aid, but that had been the last straw.

"You could've gotten yourselves killed! What did I say about learning magic?" he demanded, staring coldly at the crying slightly singed children in his kitchen.

"You said we couldn't learn until we were older," Lup said, sniffling.

"That's right. And this is exactly why. You two need to learn to respect your elders. Nothing in life is just handed to you; you have to work for it! I'm going to write to my father and see if he'll have you on the farm." Their uncle's expression softened a little when the children flinched, clinging to one another sadly. He sighed. "Look, my brother loved you two so, so much. Your mother did, too. They would come back to haunt me until the end of my days if you got hurt."

"Did they hate magic?" Taako asked, confused as to what their uncle was trying to convey. He was too young to process that level of nuance in the situation, no matter how terrifyingly proficient they were at spells for their age.

Their uncle chuckled, kneeling down in front of them and pulling them into an embrace. "No, they didn't, but they would hate it if you two blew yourselves up just because you couldn't be patient." He leaned back and smiled at them - one of the few times the twins remembered him doing that. "Kids, they would be so proud of how talented you are, but that isn't the point. You need to learn this stuff properly, when you're old enough to do it right."

"So why are you sending us to grampa Tostada's farm?" Lup demanded, brow furrowed. "Is he gonna teach us how to do fireballs better?"

"Gods no, at least I hope not. Hopefully he teaches you the value of a hard day's work." He patted them on the shoulders and stood back up. "Go play in your room. I'll have dinner ready in an hour. And stay out of trouble." They skulked off, leaving him to draft the letter that would initiate the next phase of their lives on their grandfather's farm. 

It wasn't that they were sad to leave their uncle's house. It was more that it was the first big change that they had to deal with, barely remembering what moving into the space had been like. Gathering their few scattered possessions from throughout the house was emotional, but at least arriving on the farm had been a breath of fresh air. Even deeper in the countryside, the two of them often fondly reminisced about the first time they caught sight of the farmhouse.

Upon arriving, their uncle helped them bring their few bags into the house before spending a long time talking in hushed tones with their grandparents. The twins sat in the hallway, hands entwined as they tried to eavesdrop. They kept looking back to one another for reassurance, unsure if they should be nervous. But eventually, their uncle told them to be good and departed, leaving them with the grandparents they'd only met on two other occasions. 

"Welcome home, dears," their grandmother said. She was short for an elf, heavyset with a long braid of thick gray hair hanging down to her waist. "We are so happy to have you." She really seemed to mean it; she helped them to their feet and hugged them tight. "Let me show you to your room."

Staying with their grandparents had been a complete night-and-day difference from life with their uncle. They helped around the house with chores, did small tasks on the farm, and were allowed to study as much magic as they wanted. They suspected the latter was because their uncle had warned that the two of them would find a way to do it regardless, and at least if they were supervised they were less likely to be hurt. 

They were allowed to read the small handful of spellbooks left behind by their father, who they were told had been a skilled enchanter. While their grandparents didn't know enough about magic to help them understand what they were reading, they let them practice spells so long as they were under direct supervision. In hindsight, the twins would joke that there wouldn't have been much they could've done if anything had gone wrong, but they supposed it was the principle of the thing. Perhaps they'd been hopeful that the children wouldn't be as careless if an adult was watching.

While they only lived with their grandparents for a few brief years, the lessons they learned from them were more concrete: how to milk a cow, raise chickens, fertilize crops, preserve various foods. But more importantly, they learned what schools of magic they had natural talents for. 

Taako used his knack for transmutation magic to help Lup have access to the right hormones, something their remote location would have normally made very difficult and costly. The goal was to become skilled enough to help her change her body one day. It was reckless and dangerous and possibly illegal, but they were kids who didn't know any better and had never had reason to believe that any magical endeavor was beyond their reach.

Lup, on the other hand, had a proclivity for evocation magic, but especially fire-related spells. Upon this realization, their grandparents were relieved that they'd all agreed the twins could study as long as it wasn't in secret. 

And at the end of the day, their uncle had been right. The twins learned a lot about how difficult being a farmer was, how much work went into doing magic properly, and a whole host of other things. Unfortunately, when their grandfather passed away, they also learned the grief that comes with losing a loved one. 

Beyond that, their grandmother was unable to care for them in her own grief, apologizing that they would have to be passed off to another relative. Through this they experienced their first real loss of a home, having been content on the farm in spite of the work. Their next home was the last one that they would stay at for any considerable length of time: their auntie's. 

She was warm and beautiful, bright eyes that matched theirs and a quick wit that kept them on their toes. She doted on them, always having wanted children of her own, and she welcomed them with open arms. The first birthday that the twins spent with her was one of the happiest memories the twins had of their childhood. 

They were awoken by a gentle knock on the door as she entered the room with two wrapped presents, sitting on the edge of the bed they still insisted on sharing and humming a happy birthday song. She didn't rush them, content to hum while they rubbed at their eyes and yawned before they thanked her for the presents and tore into the vibrant wrapping paper. 

Both of them pulled their gifts out of the boxes with rapt delight: their first wizard hats. Taako's was a deep blue, a small monogrammed pocket sewed onto the side and with silver embroidery along the rim that read "wizard in training." Lup's was similar, but in red. They found tucked inside their hats a small bag of candies and a letter from their auntie about how proud she was of them, and how much she loved them.

After shoving the hats onto messy heads, they beamed and launched themselves at her with tears in their eyes. The rest of the day she made sure to be home with them, picking wildflowers together in the morning and card games in the afternoon before she prepared an elaborate turkey dinner for them. That was the first time she let them help her cook, and from that day on they never stopped.

The memory of her pressing gentle kisses into their hair, her soft scent becoming what they associated with the concept of home, the love pouring from her as she embraced them, these things had been so foreign to the twins until her. Their uncle had barely tolerated them, too wrapped up in his work to be a proper caregiver. And their grandparents, while kind, hadn't been particularly affectionate. 

On the other hand, their auntie was always reaching for them with loving hands to brush hair from their face, or to straighten a shirt hem, or even just to rest gently on a shoulder as a reminder that they weren't alone. She taught them how to cook with a patience they hadn't yet seen. With her there was never a question as to whether or not they were welcome. She loved them, and they knew this. There was no expectation that labor be performed to earn their keep, nor that they should make themselves scarce to minimize their inconvenience.

And then she got sick. And then they were passed between other relatives, hardly spending a month with one before being thrown at another, constantly being told in no uncertain terms that they were too much of a handful to be worth it. Nobody else in their family wanted to deal with them, volatile in their grief, constantly visiting their auntie at the hospital and coming home to cry and hold one another. 

The sicker she got, the harder it was for them to cope, until one day it was clear that she wasn't going to get better. The last time they ever saw her was the day they decided to run away. The day she died. She had been lying in that hospital bed, hooked up to various devices of magical and scientific nature. They each held a hand of hers and sobbed, telling her over and over again how much they loved her and needed her. 

And though she could barely speak anymore, she responded, "My children. My sweet, perfect, beloved children. Take care of each other." With great difficulty, she smiled as her eyes slid shut, breathing growing more labored. They sat beside her as she faded away, sharing lost glances.

"What are we going to do?" Lup choked, voice so small Taako barely heard. "Where are we going to go?"

"I'm not living in that house a day longer than I need to," Taako spat, hand still gripping the dead weight of his aunt's, vicelike. "I'd rather live on the road. Find a caravan that needs a chef or whatever." A painful silence passed. "There's no home for us anymore."

Lup let out a sob, nodding and finally, reluctantly, pulling her hand back. "Why does everyone who says they love us die?" 

"Maybe we're cursed," Taako said, also finally taking his hand back. A nurse entered the room at that moment, noticing that their aunt had passed away, and immediately moved to comfort the twins. They drew closer to one another, reaching out for living hands, warmth, comfort. They didn't hear anything the nurse said, or the doctor, or their cousin who had been sent to pick them up.

It was several more days before either of them said anything, in fact. They hardly needed words to communicate with one another, and had resolved to leave the rest of their so-called family behind, so why waste the energy trying to speak with them? They attended their aunt's funeral in complete silence. 

Over the next year they were tossed about between relatives as they planned their escape, teaching themselves skills that would be essential to life on the road. When they felt marketable enough, they each packed a single bag and left a note: "Thanks for the food and shelter. Catch you on the flipside." They signed their names with dramatic flourish at the bottom and departed without a second thought.

They needed only each other. For Taako, this meant that everything and everyone else was expendable, untrustworthy, and optional. He grew fearful and selfish, closed off from anyone who wasn't his sister. For Lup, it meant that she needed to make sure her twin knew at all times how much she loved him. She grew compassionate, more honest, and at times overbearing.

Their time with caravans taught them that no matter what else happened, they couldn't lose one another. They could weather any storm so long as they were together. Some caravans taught them more than others, like the one that was comprised mostly of traveling acrobats who taught them the gymnastic basics of their sport. Others were more boring trade caravans whose members were only interested in discussing the going price of goods.

Nevertheless, the twins carried every lesson in their hearts, desperately thirsting for new knowledge. They acquired more spellbooks whenever they could, studied with whoever would have them while they were available, and when finally they saw an advertisement for the Academy of the IPRE in their mid-20s, something stirred within them.

"Lulu, I know we agreed we're done with settling down, but how about we check this shit out?" Taako had said, handing her the flier he'd grabbed from the town square. "They've got a recruiter in town, and they mostly do magical studies. We could go legit."

She barely looked it over before grinning. "Oh hell yeah, access to spell components and rare book collections? Formal lessons for the shit we haven't been able to figure out? Uh, where do I sign up?"

They tracked down the recruiter, scheduled an interview, and reserved a spot for the entrance exam later that week. When they found out they'd both passed with flying colors and were accepted, they told their caravan that they were quitting and headed on to their newest venture: pursuing official degrees in arcane arts. 

Their time at the academy taught them the most interesting lessons they'd ever experienced. They had few friends, still maintaining a measured distance with everyone else they met. By the time they were awarded their undergraduate degrees, having already been accepted to the prestigious graduate program for Academy students hoping to work for the IPRE, their boundaries had loosened somewhat. They were more social, less cold; they were not, however, any less guarded.

And then they became the envy of their graduate cohort when they were accepted for the inaugural flight of the Starblaster, the most sought after position in the entire Institute. They jumped up and down, delightedly clasping their hands as they laughed joyously. That night, they baked their favorite cookie recipe from their auntie and shared a bottle of wine in celebration.

They sat side by side on the couch in their apartment. "She would be so proud of us," Lup said, head resting on Taako's shoulder. "Grampa probably would've been too. Hey, maybe we should write to granny, let her know what we're doing."

Taako threw an arm around Lup's shoulders and pulled her closer, his other hand bringing his full wine glass to his lips as he made a sound of disapproval. "If she's still alive. We wouldn't even know where to send it."

"True," Lup admitted, reaching for a cookie. "Still, though, surely someone we know is where we left them. I just--"

"Want them to know how far we've come, no thanks to them?"

"Yeah."

"Spite. I like it. Yeah, let's both write a letter and hopefully one of them gets there to someone. You can send one to granny if you want, but I call sending one to cousin Burrito. That fool would be so jealous." Taako smirked as he sipped his wine.

Lup raised her glass in a mock toast. "Cheers, brother of mine. To us. For being so fucking awesome."

"Sweet, you gonna give a speech?"

She poked his side to make him squirm and chuckled at the small yelp he let out. "Nah, you know how cool we are. I'm saving all that good bragging energy for my letter."

The lessons they learned with their new coworkers as they prepared for their journey were the hardest ones. Having to fit into the group dynamic was never something that they needed to do, relying solely on one another. They learned about the ship, about the planar system, and about their crewmates. They studied new spells that might be of use on the journey and even studied up on philosophy as a mental exercise to prepare for what was to come. 

The philosophical discussions were difficult and often boring, but the twins felt it was necessary to think it through thoroughly before being confronted with wherever and whatever the voyage threw at them. What was beyond their plane? Their planar system? What were the implications of being able to enter another form of reality? What happened to time in those other planes? How would this change them?

As they stood on the deck of the Starblaster and watched their homeworld be devoured by the Hunger, hands gripping one another painfully tight, seeking the only constant in their lives, one thing was certain: none of their lessons could have ever prepared them for this.

**Author's Note:**

> I want you to know when I started this it wasn't meant to be sad but like that's just the truth I'm living, I guess. hmu fam!


End file.
